


Nowhere Near Normal

by PaxterHobber



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Touch-Starved, original child character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-09-28 01:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxterHobber/pseuds/PaxterHobber
Summary: Stiles and Derek barely ever talk. In fact, Stiles is pretty sure the werewolf hates his guts, which is why it’s kind of a surprise when he knocks on his window in the middle of the night. Even more so when Stiles sees a baby sleeping on Derek’s shoulder…





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles jerks violently from his sleep. He sits up, disoriented for a while, trying to remember what woke him up, squinting at the too-bright screen of his phone.

Then he hears it again. A scraping sound behind his window and he almost pisses himself when he sees a figure crouching on the roof. Then the shadow moves and a mix of relief and anger floods him when he recognizes Derek’s face.

“Derek!” Stiles opens the window, taking a step back when the werewolf all but barrels in. “What the hell are you – ”

“Shhh!” Derek hisses angrily and only now does Stiles register the heap in Derek’s arms. A baby, his brain supplies. A toddler, judging by the size of it. It seems to be asleep, its head resting on Derek’s shoulder.

“Oh my God,” Stiles whispers. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap a baby!”

“Do I look like someone who’d want to do anything with a baby?” he snarls and then deflates. “I found her. I was following a scent of a feral omega in our territory. She was alone in the middle of the woods but no sign of the omega.”

“Aw,” Stiles coos. “Poor thing.” He walks around Derek to get a look at her face. Her chubby cheek is squished on Derek’s shoulder, her mouth open, a dark spot of saliva forming on Derek’s shirt. She’s filthy, dirt and mud all over her face, making the tear streaks all the more visible. Even in her sleep, quiet sobs still wreck her tiny body from time to time.

“I need you to take care of her.”

“Wait, what? No, no, no... I’m the least qualified person to take care of a toddler!”

“It’s just for a few days, just until I find her pack.”

“You know, normally I’m for all kinds of illegal stuff but shouldn’t we, like, call the police? Or CPS?”

“Brilliant idea, Stiles. Let’s hand a little _werewolf _baby over to the CPS and see what happens when she sprouts claws at her foster family!” Derek whisper-yells and Stiles cringes.

“Then you take her!”

“I can’t, I’m a strange Alpha, she’s absolutely terrified of me. Stiles, please,” Derek takes a step closer. “I don’t – You’re the only one I can really trust with this. Please.”

Knowing he’s already lost his battle, he sighs and carefully takes the baby over from Derek. She whines a little in protest but doesn’t wake up. “You’d better get this sorted out before the end of the week. I don’t want to have to explain this to my dad when he comes back from the conference.”

“I will, I promise.”

“And I don’t have any diapers or anything.”

“I’ll drive to a store and bring you supplies,” Derek has already one foot back on the roof, clearly eager to get out of here.

“And use the door next time!” Stiles calls after him but he’s already gone, the sound of him driving away fading in the distance.

“Great,” Stiles mumbles to himself, standing helplessly in the middle of the room. The child is getting heavy in his arms and he carefully places her down on his bed, holding his breath in the process. She stirs but stays a sleep and Stiles lets out a breath of relief. She must be exhausted.

Finally, Stiles takes a better look at her, his mouth curling unhappily. Taking a wild guess, Stiles would say she’s maybe a year and half but looks way too skinny for her age. She’s dressed in an old, torn shirt and pants and the little hair she has is matted and sticking to her forehead in dark curls. Her left cheek sports what looks like a dark bruise but it’s hard to tell under all the filth.

Suddenly overwhelmed, he quickly opens his laptop, bringing up Google. He starts with _how to take care of a toddler _and then struggles his way through a wiki-how article even though his racing thoughts are elsewhere.

Why in the world would Derek bring a living, breathing baby to someone like Stiles? A 17-year-old loser who spends his time playing video games. And it’s not like they ever talk, not unless there is some supernatural shitstorm they need help with, anyway. Stiles gets it, he does. He’s not a part of the pack, he’s just an annoying breakable human to them.

It still stings sometimes, though. The way Derek averts his eyes when they happen to make eye contact, the way his posture is always rigid whenever he’s around Stiles and how he puts as much physical distance between them as possible. Stiles has noticed it all and it still has taken him forever to get over his crush on the Alpha.

Where’s Derek’s pack of misfits anyway? Why didn’t he bang on Erica’s or Isaac’s door?

The phone vibrating against his table is impossibly loud in the quiet of the night, interrupted only by the soft breathing of the child in his bed, and Stiles quickly snatches it up before it can wake her up.

_At the door_, the message from Derek says and Stiles runs downstairs, making sure to jump over the squeaky floorboard. When he opens the door, though, there’s no one there.

“Derek?” he calls out softly and then almost trips over the huge bag lying on the ground. “You got to be kidding me,” Stiles grumbles when Derek’s nowhere to be seen. He drags the surprisingly heavy bag inside and empties it on the living room floor. It seems Derek went a little overboard, and Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes. There’s a pack of diapers of every size, as well as a pile of random articles of clothing ranging from socks for newborns to jackets for pre-schoolers. It’s like Derek threw in a whole rack, not bothering to check what he’s buying.

Going through the things, Stiles soon discovers why the bag was so heavy. There’s a travel crib, folded to a compact little rectangle with complicated-looking instructions printed on the cover. Stiles studies them for a while but it just makes his head throb. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the exhaustion makes itself known.

He slips quietly back to his room. It seems the baby has finally fallen deep asleep. She doesn’t whimper or stir and is splayed on Stiles’ bed, her little arms thrown wide, clutching at Stiles’ blanket. Watching her chest rise and fall for a good minute, Stiles doesn’t find it in him to disturb her and he folds himself on the floor, curling on the side, tossing for what feels like hours on the scratchy carpet before falling into a fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thank you for your lovely kudos and comments, I cherish every single one of them. Life's been busy, I wish I could update sooner but once again, my poor husband caught a stomach bug from the kids and it was up to me to run the family and take care of all three patients:)

Stiles groans as he wakes up, stretching his sore muscles. He can’t remember the last time he slept on the floor and it definitely shows.

There’s a rustling sound on the bed above him and he freezes, only now remembering why exactly did he spend the night on the floor. His heart picking up, he slowly peeks over the mattress and is met with a pair of distrustful greenish eyes.

The baby is up, her hair sticking up on one side, sheet lines still imprinted on her face, and is watching Stiles’ every movement.

“Well, hello there,” Stiles smiles, perching himself on the edge of the bed, but not moving any closer. For a long minute, she just watches him, her brows furrowed in concentration. Stiles barely dares to breathe, plastering what he hopes is an open friendly expression on his face.

The next moment, her whole face crumples and she lets out a loud wail, two fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

“No, no, no, it’s okay, shhh,” Stiles tries but the moment he reaches towards her, she flops on her belly and slides down from the bed. Once her feet hit the floor, she runs wobblingly out of the room, crying at the top of her lungs. The shrill noise seems to pierce right into Stiles’ brain and he only hopes the neighbors aren’t at home or else he’ll some explaining to do.

She’s surprisingly fast and is almost at the stairs by the time Stiles grabs her from behind, picking her up before she can tumble down. In retrospect, grabbing her from behind like this might not have been one of Stiles’ smartest ideas because she completely loses it, her wails rising an octave. She thrashes in his arms with a strength Stiles would absolutely not expect from a one-year old, kicking, trying to twist herself free and Stiles struggles not to drop her.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, you’re okay – Shit, ouch!” Stiles curses when she sinks her tiny fangs into his forearm. He still manages to carry her back to his room and gently place her on the floor, and only then cradles his throbbing arm.

As soon as she’s free, she immediately crawls away, heading directly to Stiles’ closet, pressing herself in the farthest corner, hiding among the clutter of Stiles’ old stuff.

“That went well,” Stiles snorts. Two drops of blood well up on his skin and he wipes it in his shirt. He then takes a deep breath and crouches a safe distance from the closet door. “It’s okay, you can stay there. I’m gonna fix us some breakfast, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He quickly chops some banana and mixes it with yogurt, pulling out his phone with one hand and dialing Derek’s number.

“Stiles?” Derek picks up immediately.

“Will I turn into a werewolf when she bit me?”

“What?” Derek huffs out, confused.

“Will I turn into- ”

“No! Only an Alpha can turn people into werewolves, what kind of question is that. Why did she bite you?”

“Oh, I picked her up. Guess what, she’s terrified of me too. Please tell me you found who she belongs to.”

“Not yet,” Derek grumbles. “I’m gonna come over later today and we’ll talk.”

“Alright, I’ll-” Stiles starts to say but Derek has already ended the call. “See you then,” Stiles says to nobody and crams the phone back into his pocket with probably unnecessary strength.

Back in his room, he can tell she’s still hiding in the closet, her breathing still a little shaky but at least she’s no longer crying. Stiles sits on the floor, the bowl of food in his lap, and stuffs his mouth.

“You wanna bite?” he asks casually and doesn’t even have to wait long to hear rustling from the closet, followed by a small head peeking out.

Stiles carefully does not look at her as she shuffles closer until she sits down within arm’s reach, watching the bowl with large excited eyes. He offers her a spoonful and she devours it, shifting even closer, already opening her mouth again.

It breaks Stiles’ heart to see her wolf down the yogurt in record speed, keeping a hand on the bowl the entire time, as if afraid it will be taken away from her at any moment. By the time he scrapes the last bits of the banana, she’s practically sitting in his lap.

She goes rigid when she realizes how close she is and Stiles half-expects her to bolt for the closet again. She doesn’t, though; instead she once again turns her scrutinizing stare at him. Stiles stays still as she sniffs at him, pokes at his cheeks with her chubby fingers and tugs at his hair.

Seemingly satisfied, she pads back to the closet, only this time she stays just behind the door, keeping Stiles in sight. Progress, Stiles thinks as he gets up and puts the bowl away.

“Right, okay,” Stiles hesitates. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

She doesn’t protest and so Stiles takes a step closer, holding his arms out invitingly. At that she whimpers again, scrambling back into the depth of the closet.

“Not a fan of being picked up, hm? That’s okay. Come with me. I’ve got snacks,” Stiles grabs a handful of grapes he was nibbling on yesterday from his table and slowly makes his way to the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder to see if she follows.

She hovers hesitantly at the door while Stiles starts the bath but comes closer eagerly when he offers her a grape. Like a puppy, Stiles thinks. A little werewolf puppy. Only she’s a baby, a real living child, and the way she’s clearly starving makes Stiles sick to his stomach.

Putting these thoughts away, he manages to get her undressed while feeding her grapes to distract her. All that’s left is her diaper, the foul smell even more prominent now in the small bathroom.

“You can do this, Stiles,” he psyches himself up. He grabs the nearest bottle of shampoo for her to play with and takes a deep breath before undoing the diaper. “Oh, God, that’s nasty,” Stiles gags and grabs a fistful of wipes, gingerly wiping the mess away.

It takes most of the package to get it done but Stiles soon forgets his queasiness when he sees how red and irritated her bum is. “You poor little thing,” he whispers and she looks at him from where she’s trying tear the bottle label away, her face as thoughtful as ever.

_Bring diaper rash cream, _he types a quick text to Derek as he bundles the soiled diaper as best as he can before wrapping in a bag and throwing it out of the room.

“That’s better, isn’t it? Now come on,” he leads her to the bath. As soon as she sees the water, though, she lets out a panicked yelp and holds onto Stiles with a death grip.

“I’m sorry, baby, but we really have to do this. You stink.”

She fights like a cat and her shouts of terror break Stiles’ heart. He’s about to admit defeat when he manages to dunk her feet in the water and all of sudden, all noise stops. She goes pliant in his arms, if a little breathless, wriggling her feet tentatively, even bending to run her hand over the surface.

“That’s it, nice water. Nice and warm.”

She lets out a delighted squeal, sitting down in the tub, and Stiles collapses on the mat, exhausted. He pushes away all the nagging thoughts about what got her so terrified of water in the first place or why she was so surprised it was warm. He can freak out about this later. Right now he has a dirty baby to scrub.

He keeps a steady flow of chatter as he washes away the dirt and grime, using only one hand as she keeps a strong hold of his other hand. It would be adorable if it wasn’t completely heart wrenching, the way her grip tightens whenever he as much as leans away for more soap.

Soon he deems her clean enough and wraps her in the fluffiest towel he owns, watching the murky grey water going down the drain with satisfaction. He dries her as carefully as possible, mindful of the two large bruises, one on her cheek and the other on her torso, now standing out clearly on her pale clean skin.

She doesn’t flinch or protest, though, and once in a clean diaper and dressed in new soft pajamas, her mood improves significantly. She ventures around the house, exploring, and Stiles follows at her heels.

As soon as she wanders into the kitchen, she makes a beeline for the fridge, yelling and making grabby hands.

“Still hungry, huh?”

The fridge is woefully empty and in the end Stiles reheats yesterday’s pizza, cutting into small pieces. He does feel a little guilty about feeding her junk food but vows to cook her a proper meal later. She gobbles it down, humming happily, smacking her lips loudly and then licking the plate clean so Stiles considers it a success.

When he takes her back to his room and she heads directly to her hideout again, playing quietly with the straps of his old sneakers. It’s a sad sight and with a sigh, Stiles hands her the box with his Star Wars action figures.

“Don’t break anything, okay?”

For the next hour she babbles contently to herself as she takes all the figures out of the box, studies them in fascination and then returns them back.

In the meantime, Stiles finally puts together the crib Derek got him and them stares at the computer, trying to get some work done, even as his thoughts are all over the place.

It takes Stiles a while to realize it’s conspicuously silent in the closet. Sure enough, when he peeks inside, he finds the girl asleep, curled on Stiles’ old lacrosse jersey, still holding one of his figurines in her hand. For a second he contemplates moving her as it doesn’t look all the comfortable but before he can make up his mind, his phone beeps.

_I’m at the door._

Oh thank fuck, Stiles thinks as he hurries downstairs. He really needs some moral support right now. Not that he’s likely to get anything more than a pissed scowl from Derek but still.

“How’d it go?” Derek asks as soon as Stiles quietly closes the door behind him, leaning against the rough plaster.

“She’s alive so – good? And she fell asleep a moment ago.”

“I know,” Derek mumbles distractedly.

“Wait – did you wait here until you knew she’s asleep?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell, Derek!”

“What? I told you she hates me. I didn’t want to make her upset again.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just scared.”

“Hm,” Derek shrugs, unconvinced. “Where did she bite you?”

“Oh no, that’s nothing,” Stiles waves his hand dismissively, feeling his cheeks grow a little hot.

“Show me,” Derek orders and Stiles offers his arm hesitantly. Derek carefully takes it in his hands and all breath leaves Stiles’ body. Derek’s fingers are rough but oh so gentle as he runs them up and down his forearm. He lingers a beat too long, and Stiles’ throat closes up with how much he yearns to just curl up against Derek’s chest and soak up his warmth.

Derek continues to rub circles into his hand absentmindedly and it feels like a life time ago since the last time someone touched him like this, full of comfort and care. His dad was never a hugger and with how their relationship has been strained lately, it’s been a struggle to even hold a decent conversation. Scott seems to save all his affection for Allison and that’s pretty much all his social life.

Derek seems to realize what he’s doing and lets go off him abruptly. He takes a step back hastily, a scowl returning to his face. The spell is broken and the moment is gone, as if it never existed. “Anyway,” he clears his throat awkwardly and shifts his weight. “I returned back to where I found her.”

“And? Did you find something?” Stiles forces his mind back to the present, trying not to let his disappointment at the loss of contact show.

“I tried to track the omega’s scent but it ended abruptly,” Derek says, his face turning dark.

“Abruptly? As in?”

“I smelled blood. And other wolves. An unknown pack but they seemed to have left the territory.”

Heavy silence settles between them and cold fear runs down his spine. What if they come back? What if they’re after the baby as well?

“We should lay low for now, be on the lookout. I’ll talk to Deaton tonight.”

“Alright,” Stiles nods, his head swimming. What the hell did he get himself into? He turns to head back home but stops when Derek calls after him.

“Stiles?” He throws him a small tube and Stiles fumbles with it, managing not to drop it. A diaper rash cream, he realizes, a smile tugging at his lips despite everything. “And thank you. For everything,” Derek says quietly and then he’s gone, leaving Stiles on the empty street, uselessly trying to think of a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit me at https://paxterhobber.tumblr.com/ if you're looking for good angst, hurt/comfort fics. I've got some recommendations for you there!


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles sets the baby on the floor in the kitchen with a stack of papers and some pens he got from his dad’s table and starts on the dinner. This should be easy; he’s making a simple pasta with a store-bought sauce. Not much he can screw up here.

The papers hold the girl’s attention for about five minutes. The water’s not even boiling when she moves her drawing to the tiles. Stiles turns around just in time to see her head for the white wall, her pen outstretched and a look of concentration on her face.

“Oh no,” he mutters under his breath as he hurries to wrestle the pen out of her grip. She grunts in protest but quickly grabs another one laying round on the floor, once again heading for the wall. Cursing internally for giving her such a tool of destruction in the first place, he struggles to pick up all the pens when he hears the water overboiling, hissing and spraying all over the kitchen.

“Oh, sh- shoot!” he shouts in pain as the pot lid burns his hand. He throws it into the sink where it lands with a deafening clatter.

She jerks violently at the loud sound, her bottom lip starting to wobble and tears immediately welling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean – ” Stiles says soothingly, crouching down, but the moment he moves, she turns around and crawls to the farthest corner under the table.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, you can come out,” Stiles opens his arms invitingly but she just whines, desperately pressing herself into the wall. For a moment, he’s overcome by a heavy feeling of helplessness and contemplates curling under the table with her. The water is still spattering on the stove, though, so he forces himself up with a sigh and pours some pasta in it.

Once again, food seems to do the trick. She emerges as soon as Stiles places the plate on the table, all earlier fear forgotten. She practically inhales the food, stuffing fistfuls of pasta in her mouth, choking and spluttering but not slowing down to chew.

Her stomach full, she quietly plays with some old magazines she finds in one of the drawers, tearing the pages into tiny pieces that end up absolutely everywhere.

As night draws near, though, she becomes grumpy, rubbing at her eyes and yawning, and yet resists sleep. Stiles tries to rock her on his arms but she arches her back and screams even louder, pushing him away.

She lies splayed on the floor, crying miserably, looking at Stiles part accusingly and part demandingly. Not for the first time Stiles wonder if she misses her mother. Or maybe her favorite teddy bear. Stiles tries handing her one the action figures again and she flings it away, her cries turning even more wretched.

Stiles wants to cry too. He even tries singing the first lullaby that comes to his mind, tripping over the words and making up the new lyrics but it’s no use. Her wails drown his off-key singing and eventually she just crawls back to the closet and after long ten minutes of exhausted sobbing, she finally falls asleep.

This time Stiles does move her to the crib that’s taking most of his bedroom. She stays asleep, the silence suddenly unnerving. Stiles locks every window and double checks the bolts on the door, feeling the fear from earlier return. Every little creak of the house seems to set him on edge.

At one moment, he’s sure he sees a shadow move behind the kitchen window and he freaks out a little, getting his baseball bat from the closet, gripping it hard in his sweaty hands. His phone vibrates in pocket and Stiles jumps a foot into the air.

_Its me. Just checking_, the text from Derek says and Stiles huffs. Still, he’s weirdly comforted knowing Derek’s out there, keeping an eye on him, and he can’t bring himself to be too creeped out by it.

It’s still early but Stiles can’t wait for this day to end. He collapses into his bed, sighing as the soft mattress dips under him, his body already heavy with sleep. He’s barely starting to dose off, though, when a distressed whine wakes him from his slumber and he groggily sits up.

It takes him almost an hour to hush her back to some sort of restless sleep and she’s up again not ten minutes later. The third time he repeats the whole process, it’s almost midnight and Stiles starts to deeply feel for the tired-looking parents he’s seen in coffee shops.

The next time her cry cuts short his exhausted sleep, he gives up and takes her into his bed. Immediately, she presses against his chest, her head snuggled in the crook of his neck and sleeps through the whole night without stirring.

It’s still dark outside when she wakes up, grinning with all six of her teeth, and Stiles melts a little, despite desperately feeling the lack of proper sleep. Fortunately, she’s in no hurry to get out of the bed. She crawls all over him, even pressing wet open-mouthed kisses on that leave drool all over his cheek.

“Ew,” he laughs as he wipes it in his sleeve and she giggles, clearly satisfied with herself.

They end up lazing most of the morning away. At first, Stiles is hesitant to touch her, afraid of spooking her again, but when she clambers on top of him, her greenish-brown eyes are watching him openly and curiously. She snuggles against his chest, wrapping herself around Stiles with surprising strength and rubbing her face over every inch of skin she can reach.

_She’s scent-marking me_, he realizes distantly but she feels too good in his arms, warm and soft and happy, and he can’t really bring himself to care or think too much about what it really means, as he blows raspberries on her belly, making her chortle and squeal with glee.

After lunch, Stiles puts on some baby songs from youtube on his tablet and the girl seems completely captivated by the lame animation and less than perfect singing voice. Still it gives Stiles a chance to catch a breath.

He’s going to need a name for her. Can’t really keep calling her a girl or baby, can he? But then again, she’ll be out of here soon. The thought ties his stomach in knots and he scoffs at himself. He’s being ridiculous. They’ll find the girl’s pack and she’ll go back to where she belongs, he tells himself but somehow he’s having hard time really believing it.

He slinks out of the room, dialing Derek’s number while keeping any eye on the baby who is now poking at the tablet curiously.

“Derek! Any news?”

“No,” he grunts and Stiles sags, not sure if in relief or disappointment. “There is no one looking for her. Which is weird, don’t you think? Either they don’t care or don’t know she’s missing. And whatever happened to the omega?”

Stiles contemplates telling Derek about the uneasy feeling that has been forming in the back of his mind for a while now. A feeling that grows every time she flinches from him. Or whenever she almost chokes on food in a hurry to get it down, clearly starved as she was. Not to mention the ugly bruise on her face. It’s almost faded now, her healing clearly accelerated but Stiles can’t get the image out of his head. But babies bump their heads all the time, right?

“Anyway,” Derek continues. “Deaton promised to look for a pack that might be willing to take her in but it’s complicated.”

“You know my dad’s coming back on Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Derek snaps.

“Why can’t your pack take her?” Stiles lowers his voice just in case. He’s not sure how much she can really understand but he’d never want her to hear them bickering about who’s going to take care of her. “I’m sure others will help as well, we’ll come up with a cover story…-”

“The pack doesn’t know anything.”

“What? You haven’t told them?”

“No. It’s not their problem, I’m taking care of this—”

“Of course it’s their problem. They’re your pack, you’re their Alpha. Urgh,” Stiles grunts. He seriously wants to shake some sense in the werewolf right now.

“It’s fine. I’ll figure something out,” he says tersely.

“Derek,” Stiles tries again, more softly. “You don’t have to handle everything alone. That’s what pack is for. Or friends,” he adds. Though he can barely hope to count as a _friend_, he’s not sure anyone does, really.

There’s a pause in which Derek doesn’t say anything so long Stiles checks if the call is still connected. “It’s full moon tomorrow,” he says finally and Stiles blinks at the change of topic. “She should be fine though, she’s probably too young. But if you have problems… containing her, let me know.”

“Wait, wait! What the hell do you mean by that? Is she going to wolf out on me?” Stiles asks, his voice uncharacteristically high.

“No. Probably not. I don’t know. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Stiles draws out, not convinced at the least. He glances over to the couch where the girl has managed to exit youtube and is engrossed in typing what looks like a new email. Shit. “Gotta run.”

He snatches the tablet out of her hand and she wails in protest, making a grabby hand, letting out a demanding sound. There are two sent emails containing a string of random letters and numbers. Both to his dad.

It’s not really a surprise when his phone starts to ring the very next moment.

“Hi, dad.”

“Stiles! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry about the emails, everything’s fine, I promise.”

On the couch, the baby climbs on the backrest, reaching towards Stiles while making little demanding _uh-uh _sounds with increasing intensity.

“Who’s that?”

Stiles quickly puts her down on the floor and runs out of the room. “No one, it’s just TV. So, how’s the conference?” he quickly tries to change topic, cringing at how guilty he sounds. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Boring. I’ll probably come home earlier.”

“How – how much earlier?”

“Why do you need to know that?”

The coldness in his voice cuts deep. He knows he’s being lied to, of course he does. Ever since Stiles got tangled in all this supernatural stuff, all the lies have formed cracks in their relationship and the distance between them grows with yet another of Stiles’ lame excuses. But what can he do? He’d rather have his dad hate him than be mauled to death because Stiles dragged him into this shitstorm.

“No reason,” he mumbles and the following silence says more than any words could. “I’ll see you then.”

He ends the call with a heavy heart. He stands there for a long time, just looking listlessly at the black screen of his phone, while he gathers the energy to plaster on a smile and go back to see what the girl is doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, I'm going to stop apologizing for late updates or the quality of my writing. Not today, though. Sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Derek gets to properly meet the baby.

Once she accepts Stiles as her own, it turns out the baby is a complete and utter sweetheart, always nuzzling and sloppily kissing Stiles.

She’s happy to toddle around the house, exploring, as long as she always has a bowl of snacks nearby. Popping one slice of orange in her mouth, shebrings another to Stiles, clumsily feeding him, leaving smears of juice all over his face.

“Thank you,” Stiles laughs, wiping his sticky mouth.

“Ta-tu,” she sing-songs back and it might just be the most adorable thing Stiles has ever heard. Clearly encouraged by his reaction, it becomes her favorite word and she entertains herself for a good part of the day by just bringing Stiles morsels of food or whatever’s lying within her reach, saying _ta-tu _as loud as she can and then grinning and clapping at herself.

Stiles is starting to feel like a pro at this. It’s actually a fun challenge finding anything in the house to entertain her with as he is short on toys. Trying to match pots with lids, banging them loudly in the process, seems to be her favorite, closely followed by stacking plastic cups on top of each other and carrying random clutter to her new bunker that Stiles created by throwing a blanket over the travel crib and unzipping the side entrance.

Even changing the diaper doesn’t seem so bad anymore. Not when all his attention is now on making the silliest face or sound he can think of just to get her to lie still and not squirm or roll away.

There is no more terrified screaming when Stiles draws her a bath in the evening. Instead she squeals in delight and makes her impatient little _uh-uh_ sounds the whole time it takes Stiles to get the water temperature just right.

The bathroom is a mess afterwards, streaks of water trickling down the mirror and Stiles is completely drenched too but the sound of her cackling with laughter as splashed water everywhere was totally worth it.

As the bedtime draws near, though, her mood takes a downturn once again. At least she doesn’t push Stiles away anymore; on the contrary, she clings even tighter, looking around unhappily and alternating between crying softly into his hoodie and whining demandingly.

It breaks Stiles’ heart, not knowing how to make it any better for her. Struck by a sudden idea, he wraps her in a fuzzy blanket and pushes the door to the backyard open with his shoulder. The chilly evening air is a pleasant change and Stiles takes a lungful.

She stills immediately in his arms and looks at the sky. The moon is up already, almost completely round and visible even through the clouds.

“Is that it? You wanted to see the moon?”

For a while she’s content. They sit on the garden swing and she presses close, laying her head on Stiles’ chest where it moves up and down with his breathing. Maybe she’ll fall asleep like this, he thinks, as he keeps swinging the swing softly with his feet. That wouldn’t be too bad, he could just carry her to bed then.

The next moment her head snaps up and she freezes, her body going completely rigid with tension. Stiles strains his ears but can’t hear anything that would warrant this reaction. Slowly he pulls out his phone and even the slightest movement makes her whine and grab at him in panic, her eyes wide in fear.

“Shh, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

_Is that you? _He types quickly, praying that it’s Derek and not some other werewolf lurking around.

_Yep. Sorry, didn’t know u r outside_

_Come here_

_Not a good idea_

_NOW, _Stiles punches the three letters angrily, letting out a frustrated huff. With his other hand he keeps petting her back, feeling the slight tremors of fear that run through her. “It’s okay, Derek’s not gonna hurt you, he is a nice Alpha, you’ll see,” he mutters encouragingly but she doesn’t relax in the slightest, still looking around fearfully and then zeroing on the farthest corner of the small backyard.

A shadow lowers itself soundlessly over the fence and Stiles can barely make out Derek’s silhouette, as he keeps standing there, arms crossed over his chest, no doubt scowling at them.

What a great way to make himself look less threatening, Stiles rolls his eyes internally. The poor girl has a bruising grip on Stiles’ arm and is trying to press herself into his chest, making a little distressed sound.

“It’s okay, you can come closer.”

“I told you she’s afraid of me.”

“Yeah, well, something tells me she doesn’t much positive experience with Alphas. It’s time you show her otherwise_._”

“Maybe I’m not the right person for-”

“Oh, for crying out loud, get over here,” Stiles grits out.

Finally Derek heaves a sigh and slowly stalks over, stopping a safe distance away and leaning against the garden table.

“See? It’s okay,” Stiles soothes her, running his fingers through the tiny locks of soft brown hair at the back of her head. “This is Derek. He’s a friend. He does look a little like the grumpy cat but I swear he’s not gonna hurt you.”

Derek shoots him a half-hearted glare and Stiles sticks his tongue at him. This, at least, elicits a little giggle from the girl. She is now watching him curiously, even if still clutching Stiles with all her strength, her legs wrapped around his side, as if someone was going to tear her away from him at any moment.

“Hello,” Derek says uncertainly and she shyly ducks head. Shyness is still a huge improvement over the terror that was plain on her face just moments ago so Stiles counts that as an absolute win.

Scooting a little, Stiles pats the place next to him on the swing and reluctantly Derek goes, pressing himself as far from them as physically possible, his back ramrod straight and rigid.

“I wish I brought beer,” Stiles says just to break the tension. It is a nice night, the almost full moon giving it a romantic feel.

“It doesn’t work on me and you’re seventeen,” Derek scoffs but there is no heat behind the words; he’s clearly glad not to have to suffer in awkward silence.

“I’m practically a parent now, I deserve a beer,” he jokes. “Plus, who says anything about alcohol. You can drink it just for the taste.”

“Have you ever had a beer? The taste’s nasty.”

They talk about anything and nothing in particular, not paying her any mind while she scrutinizes Derek with her intense stare, running her eyes up and down and then back up, frowning all the while. Incrementally, Derek relaxes too and soon he slouches back, resting his head back to look at the sky as the conversion eventually lulls into a comfortable silence.

“See? It’s okay,” Stiles softly nudges her and then reaches over to take Derek’s hand in his, hoping to emphasize it’s _safe. _Only then does he realize just what he’s done and what it looks like and his heart triples in speed. Derek’s eyebrows rise up as he looks at their joined hands. For a moment, Stiles’ stomach sinks, expecting him to pull away.

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he squeezes back, his hand rough but warm, and holds on. It takes a long time for Stiles’ heart to slow down, the excitement making him a little giddy. It’s surreal. He’s holding hands with Derek _freaking _Hale and a baby is cuddled against his chest. How is this his life and why is he the happiest he’s been since he can’t remember when?

“I should probably go,” Derek whispers after a long time, glancing at the girl, who is now soundly asleep.

“Oh yeah. Right,” Stiles lets go, not sure what to do with his hand now, awkwardly rubbing at his neck.

“Do you need help with her?”

“Yeah, if you could—” He carefully hands her over into Derek’s arms. She only mumbles something and hooks her hand in the collar of Derek’s shirt and sleeps on. “Take her to my bed, I’ll be right there.”

Stiles has probably never seen the werewolf walk so carefully and his heart squeezes inexplicably at the gentle, yet terrified look on Derek’s face.

Shaking himself from his stupor, he quickly runs inside the house and gets ready for bed as well. She’s already tucked in Stiles’ bed when he makes it to his bedroom, Derek leaning against the wall, watching over her with the same conflicted expression.

They meet eyes and Stiles stutters to a halt. He should probably say something about what happened. Laugh it off, say he only wanted to soothe the girl’s fear. Say it meant nothing. All words die in his mouth, though, and eventually, Derek peels himself from where he’s standing.

“I'll see you around,” is all he says as he leaves the room with a final squeeze of Stiles’ shoulder.

Pushing the uneasy feeling away, Stiles slips under the blanket with the baby and falls asleep, replaying the feeling of Derek’s hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate that the summer's over. Now when I'm woken up at 5 AM it's still dark outside and it sucks!


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up not alone is the favorite part of his day, Stiles decides. He’s still half asleep, chasing the last glimpses of his fading dream – something about Derek, he thinks – when two small hands start to pat his cheeks. When that doesn’t work, she pokes a curious finger deep inside his nose, giggling when Stiles lets out a startled yelp.

“You little devil,” he laughs and finally opens his eyes. The moment she sees he’s awake, the sweetest grin spreads on her face and she cuddles close, nuzzling against his neck.

“Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” he rains kisses all over her soft chubby cheeks and top of her head, eliciting more tittering and delighted shrieks.

He wraps himself around her protectively, never wanting to let go of her. She feels so good and right in his arms, soft and warm and like everything that’s good in this world, and he never wants to leave this little bubble of cuddles and kisses.

Soon she becomes restless, though, and Stiles knows it’s time for breakfast. Propping her against his hip, he carries her into the kitchen where he one-handedly pours her a bowl of the most colorful cereals they own. It’s probably not the ideal meal for a growing baby—a werewolf at that—but he’s running low on food and is not ready to take into the grocery store with a baby on his arms.

He watches her nervously as she uses her fingers to fish out the fruity loops from her milk, her mouth pursed with concentration. Whenever she manages to pop one into her mouth, she gives herself a little clap and kicks her legs excitedly, oblivious to Stiles’ scrutiny.

The full moon’s tonight but she doesn’t look any more ferocious or ready to claw Stiles’ eyes out. Maybe it’s too early, still. Or maybe Derek was right and she really is too young. Even though obviously she is able to shift, given she sank her fangs into Stiles’ arm just two days ago.

All that sugar—or maybe it is the full moon nearing—turn her into an unstoppable force of destruction. She empties all shelves and drawers she can reach, tearing up magazines and spilling uncooked pasta all over the kitchen floor. The whole morning Stiles does nothing than run after her but she still manages to make mess twice as fast as Stiles cleans it up.

Finally exhausting herself, she falls asleep curled on the couch next to him while some cartoons play quietly in the background. Stiles looks around himself in dismay. The house is a complete disaster, as if it was overrun by a stampede of angry hippos, not one sweet tiny baby.

Groaning, he tries to summon the energy to get up and clean up the mess but the couch is just so soft and comfy and the quiet murmur of the TV doesn’t help either. Soon his eyelids are too heavy for him to fight and he lets his head fall back.

In the afternoon, she becomes increasingly agitated and Stiles can no longer blame the sugary breakfast. She’s cranky and whiny and any attempts to cheer her up only seem to add to her misery.

As soon as it’s dark outside she starts to bang her hands on the glass door to the backyard, leaving smudges all over it, clearly demanding to go outside.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, baby,” Stiles mutters. What if she turns into a little werewolf and then climbs over the fence and disappears into the woods? The image makes his hands sweat a little and he brings the tablet, putting on her favorite channel with nursery rhymes.

“Wanna watch some more videos?” he tries and the next moment the tables flies across the kitchen, landing on the tiles with a loud clunk that makes Stiles cringe in sympathy for the poor device. “Alright, alright! Fine!”

She pushes her way out before Stiles can even get the door open properly and runs across the patch of grass as fast as her short legs carry her, not sparing a single look at the sky with the round moon casting its pale light.

Confused, Stiles follows her and his heart does a little flip when he sees her head for the corner where Derek jumped over the fence yesterday.

“Uh-uh?” she inquires, making grabby hands toward the fence.

“You want Derek, huh,” Stiles asks, already pulling out his phone. He guesses it does make sense though. Werewolves are pack creatures and Stiles is a sorry excuse for a pack. How lonely must it be for her, without her parents, without her pack. At least he supposes she has one.

_Please come over_, Stiles types and lets out a breath of relief when this time Derek doesn’t argue. All he sends is _omw_.

Stiles knows he’s close before he can hear him when the girl perks up, her eyes growing wide with excitement. “Uh-uh!” she repeats, even more impatiently, and the next moment there’s soft _thud _as Derek lands graciously in the backyard.

“Are you alright?” he asks immediately and then his eyebrows furrow when his eyes land on the girl. She’s practically vibrating with tension. It is clear she wants to go to Derek but her fear is stopping her, the indecision making her whine miserably.

“She was asking for you, I didn’t—” Stiles says uncertainly but Derek just shakes his head. He crouches down, looking at the girl softly, so very much un-Derek like, that it makes Stiles’ stomach flutter.

“It’s okay, you can come here,” he holds out his hand encouragingly.

She goes, slowly and hesitantly, head down, but when she gets within reach, her eyes flick up to him, flashing gold for the briefest moment and then she looks away again, tilting her head in what looks like submission.

Stiles takes a quiet step back, not wanting to impose. He’s not really sure what’s going on but he’s pretty sure it’s a werewolf thing. Worry starts to gnaw at his mind, though, when he sees Derek go rigid, and an unreadable expression clouding his face.

When he doesn’t move, she takes a step closer and repeats the gesture, tilting her head, her eyes once again flashing gold. Just when Stiles is starting to think Derek is not going to do anything, his eyes turn red and he scoops her up, nuzzling at her exposed neck.

Stiles feels himself gape a little when she lets a little squeal of pure delight and cuddles back, rubbing herself all over Derek’s stubble. Her whole posture seems to change, going soft and pliant, her irritation and crankiness gone.

“I think I need to call a pack meeting,” Derek says when she pulls away for long enough to let him speak.

“What? Why?” Stiles asks, still trying to make sense of what just happened.

“Because we’ve got a new pack member.”

When they arrive at the old Hale house, the rest of the pack are already there, waiting on the dilapidated porch. It’s quite late, the moon high in the sky, but the girl is squirming on his lap excitedly, not tired in the least.

Boyd and Erica are chatting quietly, pressed side by side, with Isaac sitting silently just a few feet away. Even Scott’s there, pacing the porch like a caged lion. They all stop to stare as they get out of the car and Isaac lets out a whistle of surprise when they come closer, the baby perched on Derek’s hip.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter, Derek,” Isaac laughs.

“I don’t,” the Alpha snaps. “She’s not mine.”

“Sorry,” Isaac shrugs sheepishly and Erica snickers. “What, she does have his eyes,” he throws his arms up defensively. “Who is it then?”

“This is – well, this is our newest pack member.”

“Aw,” Erica coos, coming closer. The baby watches her with interest, even if she’s hiding shyly in Derek’s shirt. “I felt it. I felt the bond. What’s your name, little one?”

“We don’t know, actually,” Stiles pipes in, and adds as everyone looks at him in confusion. “Derek found her in the woods, abandoned.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Scott scoffs. “You can’t just keep a baby you found and make her your pack.”

“I had to,” Derek snaps back and Stiles is satisfied to see Scott falters under the glare. “She’s too young to be a packless omega.” _Unlike you, _he doesn’t have to say. “And we’re not _keeping _her. We’re only taking care of her until I found her a place to stay.”

“Can I hold her?” Erica asks eagerly, breaking the terse silence that follows. Once the baby is passed around all the betas, welcomed by nuzzling and what Stiles imagines must be scent-marking, she makes grabby hands back at Derek and Stiles feels only a little bit hurt at that. The way Derek struggles and fails to keeps his scowl on when she wraps her hands around his neck and presses one of her wet kisses on his cheek is totally worth it.

They’re lounging on the floor of what used to be the living room, now charred and clattered with debris, while the girl runs around, showing no signs of getting tired despite the late hour. She shifted once, growling and clawing at Stiles, when he took away a small stone she was trying to stuff in her mouth, but it only took one flash of Derek’s red eyes for her to change back, all fight leaving her body.

“Alright, what about Emma?” Boyd contributes another name. They’ve been at it for almost an hour now but still haven’t reached an agreement.

“Meh, I knew an Emma and she was asshole.”

“You can come up with some asshole for every name,” Stiles sighs. “What about Talia?”

Derek jerks, his eyes leaving the girl from where he’s been watching her intently and gives Stiles a look. “No. I know you mean well but no. Please let’s not name her after anyone’s dead parents.”

“Fair enough.”

“Celene?” Isaac offers shyly. “It, uh – Well it means the moon but I thought it wasn’t so over-the-top as Luna.”

“I love it,” Stiles nods enthusiastically.

“Celene it is then,” Derek approves and everyone cheers. Celene looks around and starts clapping too, grinning proudly, and Stiles thinks they chose well.

It’s deep into the night when her eyes finally start to droop and they head back for Stiles’ home. She falls asleep on Derek’s shoulder as soon as he takes her out of the car and carries her inside. They make their way through the house, stepping over the clatter and mess that Stiles still hasn’t gotten around to cleaning up, and Derek gently lays her down in Stiles’ bed.

As soon as he lets go of her, though, she’s up, crying inconsolably until Derek picks her back up.

“I can’t – I can’t leave her. Not when it’s still full moon and everything still too raw for her.”

“It’s okay, you can stay. I’ll take the floor.”

“You’re not going to sleep on the floor,” Derek huffs.

“It’s fine, really, I--”

“Nonsense,” Derek shakes his head resolutely. He toes off his shoes and slips into the bed, shuffling and rearranging Celene who’s mostly asleep again until there’s enough room and then lifts the blanket invitingly. When Stiles still hesitates, he grabs him by the hand and pulls him down beside him.

Stiles’ heart is pounding in his ears as he lies absolutely still, afraid to move too much in the confined space, so as not to brush against Derek accidently and make this weirder than it already is. Derek, on the other, doesn’t seem too bothered. Afterall, wolves are supposed to be tactile, so maybe it’s that.

Or maybe Derek is as exhausted as Stiles feels because he throws an arm over both Stiles and the girl and is out as soon as he mumbles a quiet ‘G’night’.

“Stiles, wake up!” someone is hissing in his ear, shaking him, and Stiles grunts, trying to free himself from the tendrils of his dream. It’s hard though, as warm and cosy as he is, sandwiched on the narrow bed between Celene, her limbs splayed wide, and Derek’s solid form.

“Hmm?”

“Wake up!” Derek says again and the urgency of his tone makes him finally sit up.

“What?” he blinks groggily.

“Your dad just pulled into the driveway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this fic won't be too long and I still hope to keep it under 20k words so we'll see. Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

“You need to get out of here,” Stiles hisses. His head swims a little with the panic and adrenaline and he watches from behind the curtain as his dad slowly gets out of the car.

“What?” Derek barks, repositioning Celene on his hip.

“Just—Take her and slip out through the window.” The girl is watching them with wide scared eyes, clearly sensing the tense mood, and now her bottom lip starts to wobble. “No, no, no, it’s okay sweetheart,” he gently strokes her cheek. “It’s just for a short while, I’ll—”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts impatiently. “My car’s in front of the house. I can’t just sneak out.”

“Oh. Shit, I’ll say I borrowed it or something, just—”

The sound of the main door opening makes Stiles jerk and he holds his breath. Three seconds of what Stiles imagines is stunned silence at the state of the living room go by before a loud, “Stiles!”, makes him flinch.

“Go,” he urges one last time before leaving the room without a look back. He’s not sure he could take seeing the hurt on Celene’s face again.

He finds his dad just as he imagined: standing in the middle of the living, arms on his hips, looking around incredulously.

“What the hell happened here? And what’s that car doing outside,” he asks as soon as Stiles pokes his head in.

“I’m sorry. I meant to clean up, I didn’t expect you to come home so soon. I’ll clean it all up, I promise.”

“That’s not what I asked. What _happened _here?”

“I, uh. Had some friends over.”

He bites his lips nervously as his dad narrows his suspiciously and looks around himself once again. Inevitably, his attention is drawn to the backyard door with two distinctly baby-sized handprints on the glass, and Stiles winces. Of course he noticed. His dad is the sheriff for a reason.

“Stop lying to me!” he raises his voice, frustration bleeding into his voice.

“I, uh—”

“It was my fault.”

Derek strolls into the living room, Celene still on his arms, as if nothing was out of the ordinary and Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose. From the corner of his eyes he sees his dad tense, his face turning hard.

“What are _you _doing here, Hale?” his dad asks, taking a not-so-subtle step in front of Stiles.

“I apologize. There was a family emergency with a distant relative and I asked Stiles for help with looking after the girl. I’m just here to pick her up.”

And damn, who knew Derek could lie so smoothly. His dad is not mollified in the least, though. He takes in Derek’s crumpled shirt and his disheveled hair and his face turns positively murderous.

“You need to get out of here and stay away from my _underage _son, are we clear?

“Dad!” Stiles protests, his cheeks burning hot. “That’s not—”

“Understood,” Derek nods and heads for the door but not before giving Stiles a meaningful look first. The moment Celene understands they’re leaving, she starts to scream, arching her back and trying to worm out of Derek’s hold, while reaching for Stiles. The look of betrayal on her tear-streaked face turns Stiles’ stomached into ice.

Derek’s out of the door before Stiles can summon the words to make him stay, make _her _stay, and her wailing soon fades away, swallowed by the roar of Derek’s car.

“What the hell were you thinking?” his dad snaps as soon as it is quiet again, the echoes of her screams still ringing in Stiles’ ears.

Feeling hot anger bubble inside him, he swirls around to face his dad. “Nothing happened! I was just helping him.”

“Of course you were. You bend over backwards for anyone who asks for help. He’s not your friend, he’s just using you!”

Stiles sucks in a breath. The words slash deep and he’s left momentarily speechless.

“I don’t want you anywhere near Hale. The man’s trouble and you’ll stay away from him.”

“What? But—you don’t understand.”

“What?” he snaps, throwing his hands up. “What do I not understand?”

Stiles opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The oppressive silence drags on until Stiles’ dad’s face falls, anger replaced by resignation.

“You’re grounded.”

“What? For how long?”

“Until further notice! Now clean up the mess,” his dad gestures around himself and is out of the room; a moment later the door to his study is banged shut. 

Hot tears of frustration and helplessness burn in his Stiles eyes as he bends to pick up the piece of paper scattered all over the floor. It takes him most of the morning to get the house in order, working sulkily, making sure to make loud, annoying noises the whole time.

His dad emerges from his study a few times but barely looks in Stiles’ direction, anger clearly simmering under the surface. He only gets something from the fridge and then disappears again.

Some of the knots in his stomach loosen up when he gets a text from Derek half an hour later. It’s a picture of Celene on Isaac’s lap, looking at an old worn picture book. _She’s fine_, the text says. _Sorry but I had to get out of there, I was worried she was going to wolf out. The pack came over and she’s calmed down._

Of course she has, Stiles thinks bitterly. She doesn’t need him, she’s got her pack now. He knew this wasn’t permanent though. Young kids forget fast; he should probably count is as a blessing.

His room feels too big and empty now that the crib is folded and stacked away. Not to mention the suffocating silence that has filled the house the whole day, slowly creeping under Stiles’ skin. He almost jumps out of skin when there is a soft knock on the door.

“Yeah?” he croaks finally and his dad comes inside, hovering at the door uncertainly.

“May I?”

He sits on the edge of Stiles’ bed, fidgeting with a loose thread on his shirt for a while before finally squaring his shoulders and looking up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.”

“’Sokay,” Stiles shrugs

“No, I mean it. I don’t want you to be afraid of telling me anything. Because you can. Tell me anything that is.”

“Okay?” Stiles says uncertainly, trying to make sense of the way his dad is looking at him.

“I got mad because Hale – well, I have my reservations about him.”

“You know he got cleared of the murder charges, right?”

“I know, but there’s something off about him and seems to attract trouble. I just want you to be safe.”

Heaving a deep sight, Stiles feels the last of the anger dissipate. Wanting to keep someone safe is definitely a sentiment he can get behind. “I get it. I want you safe, too.”

His dad gives him a small smile but doesn’t get up. It’s clear there’s still something he wants to say and so Stiles leans back and waits.

“What I wanted to say—What I want you to know is,” he says finally, stumbling over his words, “I wasn’t mad because you… I mean, I’d have no problem if—”

“If I like men?” Stiles finally takes mercy on him, seeing worked up he’s getting.

“Yes,” his dad sags, clearly relieved not to have to say it out loud, and looks at Stiles earnestly. “I’d love you no matter what. I hope you know that.”

“Thanks,” Stiles swallows thickly, blinking against the tears that burn in his eyes. Deep down he always sort of knew—well, _hoped_—his dad would accept him but hearing it out loud, it lifts a weight from his chest he hasn’t even realized he was carrying.

“Right,” he pats Stiles’ thigh awkwardly and Stiles wishes he’d hug him like he used when he was small enough to curl against his chest. He wishes he could feel safe and secure in his father’s arms again it’s useless. Those times are long gone.

“Alright, so,” his dad clears his throat, taking his hand away, much to Stiles’ disappointment. “Tell me about the child.”

“It’s, uh. It’s complicated,” he says, carefully choosing his words. He’d hate for his dad to think he’s lying to him again now that they tentatively started communicating again. “She has no place to stay right now so I helped Derek look after her.”

“Stiles,” his dad sighs. “The CPS are here for a reason. Derek, or you for that matter, is hardly the right person to look after a young child.”

“No, no, no, please don’t call the CPS,” Stiles pleads hurriedly. “It’s not like that, it’s just for a few days. Please. I don’t want to ruin her life.”

After a few tense moments, his dad nods reluctantly and Stiles sags in relief. “But don’t think I won’t be checking on her,” he emphasizes and Stiles nods eagerly.

“Am I still grounded?” Stiles asks as his dad is about to leave his room.

“If you promise to stay out trouble,” he sighs long-sufferingly.

“Absolutely,” Stiles grins and his dad leaves with a fond shake of his head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter for you. I'll be quite busy for a few days but as always, I'll try to get the next update as soon as possible. Shit's going to hit the fan real soon:)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Would you believe it? I'm sorry about the wait but it was necessary and I do feel a little better now. I will finish this story, I promise. It won't be very long and it won't be the greatest story even but I will finish it. 
> 
> I'll try to post sooner this time, even though probably not once a week as before, my life is too hectic at the moment and it was getting the best of me. Anyway, enjoy.

Stiles has every intention of keeping his distance, he really does. It’s the right thing to do. Derek, now with the help of his pack, seems to have everything under control and Celene—well, Celene won’t miss him in a day or two.

His well-meant resolve crumbles like a house of cards the moment his phone starts to vibrate under his pillow as he’s slowly drifting to sleep that night and Derek’s name pops up on the screen.

“Oh, Stiles, thanks God,” Derek says as soon as Stiles picks up the phone and he sounds weirdly strained, even though it’s a little hard to tell over the ear-piercing wailing in the background.

“Derek! Are okay? What happened? Is she hurt?” Stiles sits up, his heart clenching painfully at Celene’s cry of misery that carries clearly through the phone.

“No, no, she’s fine, it’s just – Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called. She won’t sleep and I have no idea what to do, but it’s fine—”

“I’ll drive over, give me twenty minutes.” He doesn’t bother waiting for Derek’s reply or changing out of his pyjamas. The house is dark and quiet, no sounds of TV softly playing in the background, which means his dad is probably asleep. Still, he glances at the window, wishing for a moment he had Derek’s skills to sneak out from the roof. He’d probably just break a bone, though.

Instead, he tiptoes quietly down the stairs and grabs his car keys from the hook, clenching his fist tight so that they don’t jingle as he slips on his shoes. Soon he’s driving through the sleeping town and allows himself a breath of relief, trying hard not think about what his dad’s going to do if he finds his bed empty.

With no traffic, he’s over at Derek’s in record time. Celene’s exhausted sobbing catches his ear as soon as he steps out of the car and he hurries up the steps. Derek’s already waiting for him when he reaches the door, red-faced Celene in his arms.

When she sees Stiles, she reaches out her hands and Derek hands her over, taking a step back and running his hands over his face in a gesture that reeks of exhaustion and frustration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Stiles says softly, not looking up from Celene, who has her eyes locked up on Stiles, quiet except from an occasional sob. With the back of his hand, he gently wipes the tears from her cheeks and steps into the house, automatically heading for the bedroom.

Derek trails him quietly but Stiles tries not to pay him any mind as he starts to softly sing the first lullaby that comes to his mind. He knows his singing sucks but can’t bring himself to feel too embarrassed about it when Celene fists her hand in Stiles’ shirt and her eyes start to droop.

She’s out like a light before the song is over and he gently places her in the crib tucked in the corner of the bedroom. Once it’s clear she’s not going to wake up again, her deep breathing reverberating in the room, Derek sags on the bed, looking the picture of defeat.

“You are a life saver. I told you—kids hate me!” he whispers.

“Nah,” Stiles shrugs as he toes his shoes off and sits on the bed next to him. “She was just exhausted. She would have fallen asleep soon anyway. And besides, she cried the first night with me, too.”

They sit quietly in the darkness for a while, lost in thought, just listening to her sleeping. Now that the adrenaline has left Stiles’ body, exhaustion hits him and he struggles to stifle a yawn. “I should head back,” he says reluctantly.

“Stay,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t have the energy to pretend he doesn’t want to. They’re sitting side by side, their shoulders touching, and all it takes is turning his head a little and then Derek’s lips are on his, surprisingly soft and gentle.

Stiles’ heart pounding in his chest sounds deafening in the quiet bedroom and Stiles wonders if Derek hears it too, if he knows what he’s doing to Stiles.

They kiss unhurriedly for a while. Stiles leans closer but Derek doesn’t deepen the kiss, cupping Stiles’ cheek in his hand instead and pulling away, looking at him with affection he’s never seen on Derek’s usually stern face before.

Stiles is suddenly fiercely grateful for the darkness as he feels his cheeks flush red.

Derek scoots to the middle of the bed and Stiles follows, hesitating despite himself. This is probably a bad idea. His dad will kill him if he finds out. What if Celene wakes up? Is he really doing this right now?

A pang of fear makes its way into Stiles’ guts and he tries to stomp it out immediately. He’s never done it with a man. He’s never done it with anyone, period. All his experience comes down to some fumbling kissing and a sloppy handjob that ended embarrassingly fast. He has no idea what he’s doing and there’s probably no way he’s going to be able to hide it from Derek.

He looks at the older man uncertainly, hoping he doesn’t look as clueless as he feels. Luckily, Derek seems to take the hint and reaches for Stiles waist, manhandling him as if he weighs nothing at all.

Stiles lets out a surprised huff when he ends up on his side, Derek spooning him from behind, wrapping a strong hand around his middle and tugging him closer. With the other hand he throws a blanket over them.

Blinking in the darkness, Stiles stays still, waiting for something to happen, for Derek to make a move, but his hand stays firmly around his chest.

“Go to sleep,” Derek grumbles in his ear finally, nuzzling at his neck, his stubble scratching his skin.

“But—” Sties tries but Derek only kisses his temple softly and lets out a satisfied sigh. Finally, Stiles feels the tension drain from his body and he grins, wiggling a little to make himself comfortable. He can’t help but think that being held like this, safe and cocooned in Derek’s warmth, is maybe even better than what he had in mind.

He is woken up at the asscrack of dawn by Derek gently shaking his shoulder.

“Wha—” he croaks out, reluctant to let go of the pleasant remnants of sleep. It’s still dark outside and immediately he registers the soft breathing from the other side of the room, indicating that Celene is still soundly asleep.

“Maybe better if your dad doesn’t know you spent the night,” Derek says quietly and yeah, Stiles is awake now. Still, his stomach twist painfully when leaves the room, shoes in his hand, glancing one last time at Celene’s sleeping form, all his instincts screaming at him to stay.

Sensing his mood, Derek places a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he walks him to the car.

“We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah?” Stiles looks up, unable to suppress the hope in his voice.

“Oh, yeah,” Derek agrees vehemently. “I want you here every evening at bedtime. I don’t want to do this again.”

“You’ll be fine,” Stiles smiles. “Try singing to her next time.”

“I’d rather not.”

Stiles lets out a chuckle at the sight of Derek’s pinched expression. The smile stays plastered on his face throughout the whole ride home and when he burrows into his empty bed, it doesn’t feel quite so bleak with the promise of seeing Celene soon again and the memory of Derek’s lips on his.

The next morning, his dad eyes him a little warily as he yawns for the tenth time over his breakfast.

“Tired?”

“Hm,” he grumbles noncommitally. “Couldn’t really sleep. I guess I had too much to think about.”

“Me too,” his dad nods, his face softening. “Look, I meant what I said yesterday. I am sorry. But you shouldn’t have lied to me. I’m just trying to help.”

“I know.”

“And I know you mean well but that child cannot stay with Hale just like that. The system is here for a reason. And if her situation – whatever it is – is not resolved by next week, I will call the services.”

“But—Dad, it’s really complicated and…” His dad doesn’t budge though, his face stern and set, and eventually Stiles deflates. “Fine.”

“Thank you. I’m off to work then. You know what you promised – keep out of trouble, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

There’s a beat of uncharacteristic hesitation and then his dad mumbles, “Love you”, almost too soft for Stiles to hear and leaves the house, grabbing his keys on his way. Still, it makes Stiles grin. He can’t remember the last time he’s heard that from his dad.

The smile fades away quickly as the situation they’re in really sinks in. They have less than a week to _resolve _this. What the hell are they going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Stiles will absolutely *not* stay out of trouble:)


	8. Chapter 8

In the next few days, they find a sort of a rhytm that revolves around Stiles’ school and his dad’s shifts. Whenever the house is empty, Derek or one of the betas bring her over. When dad’s home, sleeping after a night shift, Stiles skips lacrosse and heads over to Derek to spend some time and help a little.

Erica manages to dig up some baby clothes and supplies in her attic, including a slightly used car seat and a high chair, left to collect dust by her cousin in hopes they’ll come in handy one day. Stiles helps to wipe the dust off them and sort the clothes to what can be salvaged and what needs to be thrown away. Together they then move the things Derek’s place and immediately it doesn’t look half as empty, with blankets and toys always lying around the floor.

There is always someone from the pack to watch Celene or take her to a park, even though she stays primarily with Derek. After the first night, there are no more late-night calls from Derek as she gets used to her new environment.

It would be easy to let himself be lulled by the easy routine they fall into but the question of what the are they going to do never quite goes away, sitting heavily in Stiles’ stomach.

On the third day, as they are sitting on the floor of Derek’s den, Celene straddling Derek, playing with the buttons of his shirt, Stiles ventures to ask carefully, “Any luck finding her pack?” As much as he’s been enjoying the past few days, the time is clicking and Derek’s silence on the matter is making him nervous.

“No,” Derek says, twirling a lock of her short hair around his finger thoughtfully. “I was thinking, maybe we should just keep her.”

“Derek,” Stiles sighs and Derek’s face closes off. He gently nudges Celene down, who immediately paddles to the box with toys in the corner. “She has family, a pack, somewhere. She’s not a stray kitten to keep.”

“There’s no one looking for her,” Derek snaps, lowering his voice to an angry whisper. “In the whole California, not a single pack. Don’t you think that’s weird? From how much farther could she be? She’s a tiny toddler and her mother a half-feral omega, dead most likely. And if any pack is going to take her in, it should be us.”

Stiles bites his lip not to comment. How are they qualified to care a little werewolf baby? Stiles is just a teenager, as are the betas. Not to mention they’re still at school. And Derek’s… well, Derek. At the same time, though, Stiles gets it. He really does. The thought of having to say goodbye to the girl is like a knife carving a piece of his heart away. Maybe it’s even worse for Derek, with the pack bond that must have been only getting stronger the past few days. Plus, it would be impossible not to miss her adorable little pouts.

“So, what—are you just going to adopt her?”

“Maybe?”

Stiles huffs in frustration. Is that Derek’s plan? How is he going to explain a baby that has appeared out of nowhere, with no documents or identification. And if he did manage to somehow come up with them, how on Earth is he going to get CPS to let _him _adopt her?

“Maybe we should just tell my dad.”

“No,” Derek barks and Celene flinches. Her bottom lip starts to wobble and the next moment she lets out a heart-wrenching wail. Derek scoops her up, shushing her softly as she continues to cry miserably. “We are not telling your dad. It’s too risky,” he says in a clipped voice, while rocking her on his arms. “There’s gotta be another way. I just need to—I need to _think_.”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees placatingly. He doesn’t want to tell his dad anyway, not if he can help it.

Finally, Celene starts to calm down and Derek rearranges her to lie down on his arms. “I’m gonna put her down for a nap, I think she’s tired.”

Stiles remains sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, as Derek takes her out of the room. Through the open door, Stiles hears him humming softly what sounds suspiciously like twinkle twinkle little star and grins to himself.

Five minutes later, Derek’s back and he slides on the floor next to Stiles, pressing close. They lapse into silence and as much as Stiles knows he should be thinking about how to keep the CPS from taking Celene away, all he can focus on is Derek’s shoulder pressed into his, the heat radiating from him.

He wants to kiss him again and his heart starts to beat in anticipation only at that thought. Would Derek allow it or would he push him away? Since that night, Derek has kept his distance, always arm’s reach away and there hasn’t been any time when they would be alone in the room until now. Maybe he regrets kissing Stiles, just a moment of weakness. Maybe he’s not even interested in Stiles, maybe he’s misreading all the signs…

Oh, fuck it, he’s overthinking it. He’s just going to do it.

Turning his head, he’s on Derek before he can lose his courage, lips clumsily pressed against Derek, who goes rigid. After an awkward beat, Stiles realizes he’s not kissing back and pulls away.

“Derek?”

“You need to leave,” Derek says hurriedly and Stiles’ stomach sinks, his cheeks burning with mortification. He’s so_ stupid_.

“No, no, no, not like that,” Derek quickly reassures him, pecking a quick kiss on his lips, and now Stiles is just confused. “But someone’s coming. Werewolves. Take Celene and go. Now!”

Not waiting for any more explanation, Stiles scrambles to his feet and grabs Celene, who doesn’t even wake up when he quickly straps her in her seat with slightly shaking hands. He pulls out of there in less than a minute, his heart pounding, but driving carefully over the dirt road so as not to jostle Celene awake.

He stops the car as soon as he’s on the main road, gripping the steering wheel so hard it creaks. Beside him, Celene is sleeping peacefully, her mouth open a little, blissfully unaware of anything around her.

He should take her to safety, he thinks but still can’t make himself start the car. What if Derek needs help? He’s out of the car before he can form a coherent plan in his head, checking twice the car is locked. As he treads through the forest back to Derek’s house, it occurs to him that calling the betas for help would probably be a smarter idea. What is he going to do if Derek really does need help? Improvise, most likely.

As soon as the house comes into view, he stops, plastering himself behind a tree, trying to calm his panting breaths. The forest is eerily quiet, though, and when he dares peek from behind his hide-out, there’s nothing out of the ordinary; definitely no blood-thirsty werewolves fighting to death as he was imagining.

Uncertain what to do, he waits, growing more nervous by the second. What if Celene woke up and is crying, alone in the car? Just as he is about to go back, the main door opens and Stiles holds his breath, pressing himself against the rough bark, trying to keep his breathing as quiet as possible.

The tree is big enough to hide him completely but his curiosity gets the best of him and he steals another glance from behind cover. Derek is standing on the porch, looking more pissed than ever but otherwise unharmed, watching as a man and a woman leave the house. They both look middle aged, if Stiles can tell properly from the distance, and the man’s wearing black glasses and a white cane, Stiles notes with confusion.

Then the man stops, tilting his head slightly in Stiles’ direction and Stiles quickly ducks back behind the tree, his heart hammering painfully. After a long tense moment, though, nothing happens and soon the sounds of their steps fade away.

Still shaky with adrenaline, Stiles quickly runs back as soon as he’s sure they’re really gone and then drives off, Celene still sleeping peacefully.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters as he pulls in front of his house and notices his dad’s cruiser in the driveway. He was supposed to be still at work. It’s too late to turn around, though, and so steels himself as he carries sleepy Celene inside, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, Stiles, I only stopped by to—” his dad comes to a halt when he sees them, his whole face morphing into a look of utter exasperation. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Stiles draws out and Celene shyly ducks her head against Stiles’ shoulder, watching his dad from behind her eyelashes. It’s adorable and it takes his dad a whole two seconds for his stern expression to melt and his shoulder sag. “Alright. Fine. But only this one time. And don’t break anything!”

Ten minutes later they’re sitting on the floor of the living room and Stiles shoots Derek a quick text.

_Are you ok? _

_Yeah. You can bring her back whenever._

_I would, but…., _Stiles types, grinning as he sneaks a picture of his dad with Celene in his lap, softly talking to her as they page through a magazine together. In the end, he ends up being late for work, grumbling as he hastily gets dressed, lecturing Stiles the whole time on being responsible and reasonable. He still stops to ruffle her hair affectionately before he leaves.

When Stiles returns Celene later in the evening, he feels a bit like they’re a divorced couple, passing the child around like a hot potato. Her face still lights up at the sight of Derek and she latches around his neck, nuzzling close. Derek smiles but it’s weirdly strained.

“Who were they?” Stiles asks quietly once they’re inside and Derek sighs.

“Alpha pack.”

“Who?”

“A pack made entirely of Alphas.”

“How does that even work?” Stiles asks and Derek just grimaces. “So what did they want?”

“Me. The more Alphas, the stronger the pack. They wanted me to join them.”

“And you said…?”

“Of course I said no,” Derek finally snaps. “You know they wanted me to kill off my betas?”

“And they graciously accepted your refusal and just walked away?” Stiles asks suspiciously.

“They said to think it over,” Derek grits out. The following silence hangs heavy between them and finally, when Stiles can’t take it anymore, he asks, “Is it safe for her to stay here?”

“Tonight? Yes. In the long term – I don’t know. I don’t know how many more of them there are but they’re strong and there’s only four of us. Well, five, if you count Scott.”

It stings a little not to be included in the defenses but Stiles gets it. Breakable human and all that. He swallows his hurt pride. “Maybe we should ask Argent for help,” he suggests even though he knows Derek’s not going to like it.

“No,” he growls predictably. “I don’t trust them. And why should they help us, anyway. This does not concern them or their _code. _We’ll be fine.”

Stiles doesn’t press the issue any more, but does not feel reassured in the slightest. He helps Derek get Celene ready for bed and then heads back home as it’s getting late.

He’s lost deep in thought as he’s driving down the narrow road winding through the woods, which is why he startles when there’s a loud bang and then the car starts to swerve uncontrollably on the asphalt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, gripping the wheel in panic. Eventually he manages to bring the jeep to a stop safely on the side of the road. He gets out on shaky legs to inspect the damage, cursing again when he sees that both front tires are blown.

He reaches for his phone but doesn’t make it. There’s a sharp sting in the back of his neck and then his legs buckle under him and he’s falling to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the cliffhanger (not really:). I will try to have the next chapter ready soon, I promise, but it's been hard. My 1,5yo has stopped napping after lunch and in the evening I'm totally drained of any creative energy, so I basically only have time if my husband takes them out.


	9. Chapter 9

The pounding in his head is the first thing Stiles registers as he slowly comes to. He reaches to rub the sore spot at the back of his neck and in his confused state it takes him a while to figure out why he can’t. His hands are bound behind his back tightly with what feels like zip ties.

_Well, fuck_. His thoughts are still sluggish and his head feels like it’s been filled with cotton, which is probably the only thing saving him from having a full-blown panic attack right now.

Slowly, he struggles to sit up, closing his eyes as the world swims dangerously, and leans against the wall. It’s just as cold as the hard floor he was lying on but at it relieves the pressure on his sore shoulders.

When he’s sure he’s not going to throw up, he opens one eye to look around his surroundings and his heart spikes up immediately when he notices he’s not alone.

There are two men leaning against a counter and at first Stiles thinks it’s the drugs still coursing through his system that make him see double. When he blinks and nothing changes, he finally realizes they’re twins.

“Oh, look, he’s awake,” one of them says with an amused smirk and Stiles does his best to glare. “Go get Deucalion,” he says to the other one who gets up and stalks out of the room.

Stiles takes the moment to look around. The room they’re in is clearly dilapidated, full of clatter, but the ceilings are high and the walls look thick and sturdy, leaving the room in what feels like absolute silence. Then his eyes land on the massive round door and his heart sinks. It’s a vault. They are in a fricking vault. Which means they must be in the old bank.

A muffled thud makes Stiles jump and he whips his head around, looking for the source of the noise. There’s another door at the back of the room, locked, with more angry sounding thuds coming out of it.

“Shut up!” the remaining twin snarls and, surprisingly, the sounds stop.

He glanced towards his captor but the expression on his face dissuades him from even trying to ask and so they wait in silence, interrupted after a minute by the sounds of steps drawing nearer.

Deucalion is wearing the same dark glasses as before even though the cane is nowhere to be seen. He’s trailed by the women from the forest, the other twin and one more man Stiles has never seen before.

“Who are you and what’s your deal with Derek Hale?” he asks with a no-bullshit attitude. He’s clearly man used to always getting what he wants.

Stile’s stomach sinks but he fights hard to stay calm, feeling like he’s under one huge lie detector, surrounding by werewolves as he is. He considers denying knowing Derek at all but he’d never pull that off.

“I—” he falters, “I barely even know him.”

“Hm,” Deucalion smirks, unconvinced. “Somehow I doubt that. But the real question is, what exactly is Derek willing to do to get you back.”

“Not much, probably,” Stiles shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, if you’re after ransom money, you really chose the wrong guy to kidnap. Derek hates me, you should have seen him slam my head against steering wheel. Have you seen him? What would a guy like _him _even want to do with someone like me? He’s all solid muscles and glaring eyebrows, chicks dig that. He’s probably not even gay—”

“Shut up,” Deucalion barks to stop Stiles’ blabbering and Stiles is proud to hear a distinct note of annoyance. Oh yeah, he’s going to annoy them until they let him go. Or gag him, more likely. “We’ll see how many severed fingers in the mail it’s going to take for Derek to come around,” he grins nastily and Stiles feels all color leave his face.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times but nothing comes out. Pushing down his panic he desperately looks around the room again. Deep inside the vault, it’s impossible to say what time it is and how long he’s been out cold. Does Derek know he’s missing already? His dad is working a night shift – will he notice Stiles’ jeep is missing when he comes home? Will he just assume Stiles is hanging out with Derek again?

There is no way out of here except through the solid vault door and the room is pretty cleared out, only rubble and old overturned tables and counters. Nothing he can use as a weapon, even if he somehow managed to get out of these zip ties digging hard into his wrists.

His eyes catch a small object on the counter, next to one of the twin’s hand. His phone. Not that it is any help over there but Stiles tries hard to thinks whether there is any way Derek could be able to track it. Is there even a service behind these thick walls?

“All right,” Deucalion sighs, bringing Stiles out of his fervent musings. “Where’s the child?”

Stiles didn’t think his stomach could drop any lower, but here he is. Swallowing hard, he looks at the werewolf head on, willing his body not to betray him. “What child?”

“Oh, there is a child, isn’t there? Or is there a different reason Hale’s house is overflowing with toys?”

Stiles clenches his jaw and doesn’t answer.

“He had a child seat in the car,” the woman chimes in and Stiles glares at her.

“See? There you have it. And don’t you think a sweet innocent child would be an even better incentive for Hale to behave? Maybe you could even keep your fingers. So let me ask you again, where is the child?”

The rage that fills Stiles’ vain makes it hard to see. His breath comes in short furious huffs and his skin starts to tingle, feeling like he’s about to explode at any second, tugging at the zip ties until he feels blood dripping down his wrists.

“It’s at Hale’s house, isn’t it?” he sighs again, clearly not expecting an answer from Stiles. Not that he would be able to give one, even if he wanted to. It feels like his blood has been replaced with molten lava and blindingly bright light explodes behind his eye lids when he closes his eyes, shaking with the effort not to fall apart. Distinctly he wonders if he’s having a panic attack even though it feels nothing like it.

He’s still able to make out Deucalion’s barked orders. “Kali, Ennis, I want you to bring me the child. This is a stealth mission, are we clear? Don’t kill Derek, we need him. Bring him here as well if it comes to it. Aiden, with me. Ethan, watch him.”

With that they’re gone but Stiles doesn’t feel like calming any time soon. He’s never felt like this before; like his red hot fury is taken life of its own, vibrating under his skin, trying to break free. He imagines Celene, screaming in fear as she’s dragged away. It seems to be the last drop and then Stiles really is coming apart.

There’s a burst of energy, a flash of white light, and when he comes to, he’s panting, his ears ringing and the werewolf is lying listlessly on the floor.

“Whoa, what the…,” Stiles looks at his hands, which are still tingling, thrumming with energy he’s never known before. Oh God. Did he really do that? He is _so_ going to freak out about this once he’s out of here.

Not now, though. In two steps he’s at the counter, grabbing his phone, keeping his eyes on the body on the floor. His chest is rising steadily, Stiles notes. How long before he wakes up?

Stiles’ mumbles a quiet thanks to whatever deity is listening when sees the two signal bars on his screen. His fingers shake uncontrollably as he pulls up the messenger. It takes him three tries to finally hit the right icon the share his position with Derek. _Hepl, _he types, not bothering to correct his spelling, _theyr coming for celen. _

There’s another thud from behind the closed door and Stiles drops the phone. At the same, the werewolf at his feet stirs and Stiles desperately looks around. There is no way out, the vault door closed securely. He tries pulling at it but it’s too heavy and won’t budge.

Alright, he can do this, he murmurs to himself, pointing his arms towards the door, grimacing in concentration as he tries to call back the energy inside of him. After a long a minute when nothing happens, he curses, giving the door a kick for a good measure. Where is his new super power when he needs it?

The man—Ethan, Stiles remember—groans softly and stirs again. Without thinking twice about it, he’s at the closed door at the back of the room, his hand on the latch. There’s a good chance he’s going to regret this but then again, an enemy of your enemy is your friend, isn’t it? Or something like this. With one last deep breath, he throws the door open.

A hunched figure turns their glowering eyes at him from within the dark room. More like a supply closet than a real room. Stiles can’t make out more than the silhouette but he sees it stays eerily still.

“Hi there. It’s okay, I’m—” he trails off, noticing the fine line of mountain ash at the threshold. With the top of his shoe he breaks the line and has no time to step back before the figure is barrelling out of the room with such a strength Stiles topples and plops down on his ass.

The next moment he finds himself face to face with a furious werewolf, snarling, her barred fangs just a few inches from Stiles’ face, filthy black hair falling into her face. Her claws scrape Stiles’ skin where she’s grabbing his shirt and yep, he’s already starting to regret this.

“Hey!”

Ethan is sitting up on the floor, rubbing at his head. In one pounce the girl is on him and Stiles has no time to avert his eyes as she slashes his throat, sending bright blood spilling down his chest. Without wasting a second to glance back, she at the vault door, jerking it open with one powerful tug and then slips out.

“Oh God,” Stiles gags as he steps over the body, and quietly follows her out of the vault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you akibabes25 for the spark!Stiles idea!
> 
> Anyway, I think we have two more chapters left. I planned to keep this under 20k words and it looks like I'll make it. I'll be busy over the weekend but you know, as always, I'll do my best and I promise to finish this, as long as it takes.


	10. Chapter 10

The hall he finds himself in is spacious and in rubble. High windows with the glass mostly shattered let in the moonlight, illuminating rows of dusty counters, cabinets, overturned furniture and papers scattered all over the floor.

Heart in his throat, he crouches behind one of the counters, contemplating his strategy. His body is screaming at him to just bolt, run for it and don’t stop until he’s anywhere but here. Rationally though, he knows his chances of outrunning a bunch of werewolves are fucking slim.

There are voices coming from outside and Stiles curses. He can’t make out who’s talking or what they’re saying but he gets his body to move, crawling silently from the relative safety of his hide-out. The discussion outside is getting heated, judging from the sound of it, and Stiles speeds up, hoping to use the distraction to get far enough.

Focusing all his mind on crawling as quietly as possible while avoiding the shards of glass lying around, he nearly jumps out of his skin when a hand grasps the back of his neck.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” the other twin—Aiden, Stiles remembers—hisses.

He thrashes but it’s useless. The man’s hand might as well be an iron claw, not budging in the slightest, and soon he sags, panting through his nose, seeing how futile his struggles are. Blunt human nails dig into his skin as he drags him up onto his knees and he stumbles as he tries to keep up.

Soon they’re outside the bank and Stiles’ heart sinks when he sees Derek, standing all alone a safe distance away, his face hard and unreadable. Deucalion turns his head towards Stiles as they approach, his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses, but his mouth turned down in displeasure.

“Found this one crawling outside the vault.”

“Where the fuck is Ethan?” Deucalion snaps.

“Let him go,” Derek interrupts, and Deucalion turns his attention back to him. “And I’ll join your pack.”

“What? Derek, no!”

Derek doesn’t spare him a single glance, though. “Let him go,” he says again, “and call off your pack. Leave my betas and the child alone and I’m yours.”

“Deal,” Deucalion says all too quickly and a nasty grin spreads on his face.

“Derek…,” Stiles pleads, but Derek’s eyes stay hard as they flicker to him. This is bullshit. Surely Derek must know that. There is no way Deucalion’s going to leave them alone once he’s got what he wanted.

Aiden lets go off him, giving him a hard push towards Derek. One more time, he tries to reach inside of him for the power he felt in the vault but the stress is making it hard to focus and he feels just… drained.

Not seeing any other option, he goes reluctantly, Derek’s eyes following him all the time. He stops at his side and Derek gives a satisfied nod.

“Now!” he says quietly and Stiles barely has time to wonder what he means before two muffled shots come from somewhere and Deucalion and Aiden crumple to the floor.

“What the—” Stiles squawks, taking a few steps back.

Black blood starts to pool beneath their bodies and Stiles’ starts to shake as adrenaline, shock and relief all hit him at the same time.

“It’s okay, shh, you’re okay,” Derek wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and he lets himself be led away and pushed down on the ground.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he murmurs, trying desperately not to look so utterly pathetic, even as uncontrollable tremors run through him. He knew he was going to freak about this, he just hoped to keep it together until he’s back home.

From the corner of his eyes he sees Chris Argent stalk closer, a rifle thrown over his shoulder, watching Stiles with a worried expression.

“I thought you didn’t trust the Argents,” he grits out through his chattering teeth and Derek scoffs. He’s squatting in front of him, rubbing Stiles’ ice-cold fingers soothingly with his warm hands.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I would never risk you over my stubbornness,” he says softly and Stiles’ throat constricts, his eyes stinging. Great, now he’s going to cry on top of all that.

“Derek?” Chris says softly from behind them and the spell is broken. Derek gets up, his face turning hard again.

“Yeah. I gotta go, Stiles. Chris will get you home.”

“Wait, wait—But, what about Celene?”

“She’s safe. They’re not gonna find her. I had Deaton hide her. But I have to go help the pack now. How many of them are there left?”

“Two. The woman – Kali, and another one – Ennis, I think.”

“Alright,” Derek nods and is already turning away.

“Wait!” Stiles says again. “There’s something else you should know.”

Derek stops, watching Stiles expectantly. For a moment, Stiles wants to tell Derek about what happened in the vault, about the white flash of power that left the werewolf unconscious on the floor, but then thinks better of it. Maybe this is not the best time, with Chris still hovering nearby and two members of the Alpha pack still running free. “There was someone else,” he says finally. “A girl, they held her behind mountain ash. I let her go and she ran off. She looked half feral.”

Understanding flickers across his face. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he says before he runs off.

Once he’s gone, Stiles feels the last of the adrenaline leave him, and hides his face in his hands. He barely registers Chris sit down a polite distance from him or the sound of his men already dragging the bodies away.

“Are you okay?” Chris asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles swallows. “Um, and—thank you.”

“No problem. I’m glad they’re gone. I’ve heard about them before, causing trouble wherever they go. Alpha pack,” he shakes his head in derision. “Makes it sound like they’re all equal but Deucalion was still controlling them like puppets. Without him, they’re weak and they know it. Either they’ll run or fight Derek’s pack and lose.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t you be helping them?”

“They’ll be fine,” Chris says easily and Stiles envies him his level of certainty. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Can you take me to Deaton?” he tries. He needs to see her. Needs to know for sure she’s safe.

“No,” Chris shakes his head, holding the door to his car open invitingly. “You’re going home. Your dad will be back soon. Take a shower, get some sleep. It will be fine.”

Stiles wishes he had the energy to argue, to throw a tantrum and refuse to get in the car. The fact is, though, he’s barely keeping upright and the moment he sinks into the soft upholstery in Chris’ car, his eyes start to droop despite his best efforts to glare at the man.

Stiles’ jeep is parked innocently in the driveway once they arrive. “I had Allison drive it over. Key’s behind the sun visor,” Chris says before Stiles can even summon the words to ask.

“Thanks,” he mumbles and then drags his feet inside. Checking the time on the microwave, he sees it’s almost five in the morning. What a night. If he could never do this again, that would be great.

A shower sounds a like a good idea, though, Stiles admits grudgingly. The dried up sweat is starting to itch and he can’t help but feel there are tiny specks of blood everywhere on him, even though rationally, he’s pretty sure that’s not true. Well, almost sure.

He balls up all the clothes and throws them into the hamper. He turns the water as hot as he can stand and then proceeds to zone out under the spray until his skin is all pink.

There is still time before he can expect his dad to come home and so he curls up in his bed to catch at least an hour of sleep. His mind is heavy though, thoughts swirling in circles, and rest escapes him. He keeps thinking about what Celene is doing right now. Is she sleeping or is she crying, lonely and scared? Did Deaton hide her in his office behind a spell? Does he have any animals there? Maybe she likes it, maybe she’s having a good time, he tries to comfort himself but he’s having a hard time convincing himself.

And where is Derek? If he were here, crammed with Celene into Stiles’ small bed, he knows he would be able to sleep for three days straight but like this, he keeps tossing and turning, exhausted, yet unable to shut his mind down.

He’s saved by the sound of a key in the lock as his dad finally comes home. He pads barefooted down the stairs and hurries to meet him by the door.

“Oh, hi, Stiles. You’re up early. Is—”

Not letting him finish the sentence, Stiles crushes his dad in a hug with all his strength.

“Oh, okay,” he chuckles and hugs him back, running a hand soothingly up and down his back. “Are you okay?”

Stiles only nods against his chest.

“Did something happen?”

This time he gives a little shake of his head.

“Okay,” his dad sighs resignedly and doesn’t push anymore, just holds Stiles until he pulls away, shuffling self-consciously from foot to foot. “Let’s have some breakfast, shall we?”

Stiles pushes the food around his plate, his stomach tied in knots. He still pretends to nibble at the toast, enjoying the silent company of his dad, the familiarity of it. He’s home and he’s alive, it finally clicks, and gratefulness threatens to overwhelm him.

“I’m going to turn in,” his dad says, putting the dirty dishes in the sink. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t sleep much last night. I’ll take a nap, too.”

“Alright. See you later.”

He sits silently in the kitchen long after his dad is gone, trying to decide whether he has the energy to go upstairs or whether he should just collapse on the couch when there’s a soft knock on the kitchen window. He almost falls out of the chair, his heart immediately going into overdrive, but then he sees Derek standing outside, Celene on his arms, and it skips a beat for an entirely different reason.

“Oh thank god,” he mutters as he skids across the room to get the door open. He takes her from Derek and she wraps her arms around his neck, letting out a complaining whimper. Stiles kisses her all over her chubby cheeks, blowing a raspberry on her belly, but she doesn’t light up, still frowning accusingly at him.

“I think she’s tired,” Derek whispers. “Deaton said she didn’t sleep much. Probably also angry at us.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Stiles says, raking his fingers through the soft dark hair, where it’s sticking to her forehead. “To be honest, I’m pretty beat, too.”

Derek nods, taking Stiles’ hand gently in his, and together they sneak quietly up the stairs into Stiles’ room. Stiles slips under the cover with Celene curled up next to him and looks expectantly at Derek, who hovers uncertainly.

“It’s fine. Dad’s gonna be out for quite some time after a night shift. Just a short nap, please?”

Finally, Derek gives in and joins them, the bed squeaking in protest under their weight, and spoons Stiles from behind. It’s perfect.

“So what happened?” Stiles asks quietly, his words already slurring a little as exhaustion hits him with full force.

“Everything’s fine,” Derek reassures him, placing a soft kiss on his temple. “Get some rest.”

“And the omega?” Stiles mumbles.

“Didn’t find her. I’ll try again tonight.”

“Hm,” is the last thing he manages before he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Waking up feels like trying to swim up to the surface while the current is dragging him down. Distantly, he’s aware there’s a noise, a thud and glass shattering and then a hand is shaking him urgently.

Finally, he forces his eyes open and sits up, disoriented, his limbs feeling laden. Celene is still sleeping soundly next to him, sprawled wide, her fist stuffed in her mouth, and Stiles grins as his heart swells with too much affection.

His good mood quickly plummets when he sees the expression on Derek’s face, his eyes fixed on the door. Then there’s more commotion, more things breaking and Derek jumps up, swearing under his breath.

Stiles is out of the door before Derek, though. The first thing he sees is his dad standing in the hallway downstairs, still in his pyjamas. His face is slightly pale, his eyes a bit too wide, but the hand pointing out his gun is steady. Leaning over the railing, Stiles can finally see what he’s aiming and the world seems to come to a screeching halt.

It's the girl from the vault. She is wolfed out, her fangs barred out threateningly, a deep growl resonating through the whole house.

“Dad!” Stiles manages to shout and then only watches helplessly as she crouches down, clearly getting ready to attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love cliffhangers, what can I say. There might be two more chapters left, I'm not sure. One or two. We'll see. I kinda want to get this one finished already, it's been a lot of struggle and you have no idea how many times I wanted to delete this but then I see the kudos and the comments and I'm like, why do you guy like this? This is rubbish! :) Whatever, as always, I'm my hardest critic. 
> 
> Please leave me a kind word if you want, I've been feeling very lonely lately, my husband's been working more than usual, all friends are busy or sick, and I spend my days just me and the kids and my favorite fan fics.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles feels like he’s watching it all unfold in slow motion. Her, threatening and poised to attack; his dad, collected and his finger steady on the trigger. Gripping the railing so hard his knuckles hurt, Stiles stays frozen, unable to tear his eyes away.

Then a roar from behind him shakes the house and suddenly it’s over.

The girl backs down immediately. Shifting back to human, she curls defensively into a ball and presses herself to a corner, hiding her face into her knees, rocking slightly back and forth.

His dad lowers the gun, looking up the stairs bewildered. “What the… Just—what?”

They both hurry downstairs, Derek’s eyes, which briefly flashed red and are now back to his hazelnut green, never leave the hunched form on the floor as he positions himself protectively between the girl and Stiles and his dad.

“Just what the fuck was that?” his dad yells, pointing his finger towards the cowering omega.

“Dad, I’m really sorry, I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or, you know, at all. But only because I wanted to protect you and—”

“Stiles,” his dad interrupts him, his face gaining some of the color back. “What’s going on?”

“Um… Werewolves?”

“Huh,” he rubs his face and back up until he can collapse onto one of the chairs. “That—Well, that actually explains a lot. Are you a werewolf?” he asks, his voice strained.

“No! No, I’m—” _something else,_ he doesn’t say. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” he nods, squaring his shoulders. “Alright. You and I are going to have a long talk about this later. But now – what is this about? Why is _she _here?” he asks, nodding his head to the far wall.

Derek is now crouching in front of the girl, his brows furrowed and a surprisingly pained expression plastered on his face. Stiles takes a few cautious steps closer but he still can’t make out the words she’s mumbling into her knees.

Finally, she lifts her head, and for the first time, Stiles can take a good look at her face, not distorted by her shift. She’s young, younger than he thought. Dark hair, dull and matted, falls down her shoulders and her eyes are the same greenish-brown color Stiles has come to love in both Derek and Celene. In a way, she almost looks familiar.

“Please,” she rasps out. “Please. My baby. I know she’s here, please, I—Derek? Oh my god, Derek?”

“Cora?” Derek whispers and Stiles feels his jaw drop when she surges forward and wraps herself around Derek.

“I thought you were dead,” Derek says, his voice hollow as if he still didn’t quite believe it.

“Me too, until I heard there is a Hale pack over in California and I had to—I will tell you all about it later, I swear I will, but I need – Please, I need to see her.”

Derek helps her up on her legs and supports her when she sways a little. “Stiles, this Cora, my sister.”

“Hello?” he waves awkwardly and she gives him a shy smile. His head is reeling and he lets out a slightly hysterical bark of laughter. “But—That means you’re Celene’s uncle!”

“Wait, who’s Celene?” Cora asks, confused, her eyes still glancing nervously upstairs.

“Oh,” Derek smiles sheepishly. “That’s the name we gave her.”

“I like it,” she says quietly. “Her name is Lilly, though.”

They make their way slowly upstairs, with Stiles’ dad hovering uncertainly a polite distance away. The last few steps into Stiles’ bedroom she all but runs, her eyes a little wide and shoulders tense. 

Celene—well, Lilly, actually—is still sprawled on the bed but stirs when they enter, clearly woken up by all the commotion. She blinks sleepily at the four of them squeezed in the doorway, and rubs her eyes lazily.

Beside Stiles, Cora is barely breathing, her hand clasped over her mouth, and it feels like eternity before, finally, it seems to click and Lilly’s whole face crumples.

“Mama!” she wails and stretches out her hands towards Cora, who’s at her side immediately. Lilly wraps herself around her like an octopus and starts to cry inconsolably.

“Oh, baby, I know. I’m so sorry,” Cora mutters soothingly.

“Mama, mama,” she continues to sob, running her hands on Cora’s dirty hair, on her face, everywhere she can reach. It’s painful to watch her so distressed and it takes a long time for her sobs to finally subside.

Naively, Stiles always imagined reuniting Celene—Lilly, damnit—with her mother like the happiest moment ever, with her laughing and squealing. But it’s nothing like that. It’s almost as if a dam has been broken and all the hurt and angst she must have felt, alone and abandoned, is coming out, strong and unstoppable.

Cora is silently crying, too, by the time Lilly calms down and Stiles’ eyes are stinging as well. Derek is quiet and unnaturally still, pressed so close against Stiles’ side his hand is subtly touching his, and Stiles’ dad has made himself scare.

Completely exhausted, Lilly falls asleep in Cora’s hand some time later, and Cora continues rocking her gently, clearly reluctant to let go off her.

A smell of something delicious wafts from the kitchen, then, together with the clinking of pots, and Stiles doesn’t miss the longing look Cora steals in that direction.

“Come on,” Derek gently takes Lilly from her arms and places her back on the bed. He then has to physically lead Cora out of the room and quietly close the door behind them. “It’s okay. She’s fine,” he says and Cora just nods, subdued and exhausted.

His dad is just finishing thick bean soup as they enter the kitchen and a plate with sandwiches is waiting on the table.

“Thought you might be hungry,” his dad notes casually from the oven and Stiles could kiss him right now.

They eat the food in silence even though Cora struggles a few times to say something, never managing to find the words though.

“It’s okay,” Derek says softly. “We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

She nods and finishes her food in slow, sluggish movements. Afterwards, she doesn’t make it farther than the couch, where she collapses and passes out before Stiles can even finish covering her with a blanket.

She sleeps most of the day and eventually, Derek loads them both into his car and they leave for his house. As much as he would love to have them both—well, three of them—here forever, rationally he knows their old family house is a better place for Cora to recuperate.

“Pack meeting, tomorrow morning,” Derek says just before he gets into the car.

“Um, okay?” Stiles says uncertainly.

“That means you, too.”

“Alright,” Stiles agrees, unable to hide grin that splits his face. “I’ll be there.”

With everyone gone, Stiles makes his own trip to Deaton’s vet office. The office hours have already ended, but as expected, the man is still there and takes him in.

They’re in the back among the cages, most of the empty. Stiles puts his fingers through the mesh of one of the occupied ones, stroking the sick dog inside.

“Thank you for keeping her safe,” he says finally.

“It’s the least I could do,” Deaton shrugs easily.

“Yes, but still. Thank you.”

Deaton doesn’t answer and Stiles continues stroking the dog as silence settles between them awkwardly

“I assume you didn’t come all the way over here to just thank me, though,” Deaton smiles enigmatically.

“Well, no. It’s just, something happened when I was in there. I got so mad and then it was like _boom_, a flash of white light and I knocked the werewolf out. You know, like a magic? It was pretty awesome.”

Deaton, unsurprisingly, doesn’t seem perturbed by Stiles’ excited blabbering in the slightest. “I see you found your spark at the right time.”

“My what? What does that mean? But what do I do now?

“The question is, what do _you _want to do,” Deaton says in his infuriatingly collected voice and Stiles suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Can’t the man say something useful for once?

“I want you to teach me,” Stiles tries and it seems to be right thing because a pleased smile tugs at Deaton’s lips briefly before disappearing.

“Come on,” he claps him on the shoulder and steers him out of the room. “It’s late. Go home, get some rest.”

“But—” Stiles protests. All he wants is Deaton to show him some tricks how to call his power back and not have to wait for it to save his ass in the last moment possible. He doesn’t want to be weak and helpless, anymore. A burden.

“We’ll talk later,” Deaton says soothingly and Stiles sighs, realizing he’s going to need a lot of patience.

They meet the next morning in Derek’s house. The whole pack is there, with Erica and Boyd occupying the couch and Isaac lounging on some pillows on the floor. Cora is sitting next to Derek, looking a bit timidly around the room. Already she’s looking so much better, clean and rested, she even shoots Stiles a shy smile when their eyes meet.

Lilly, on the other hand, seems ecstatic to have so many people there, basking in the attention as she goes from lap to lap. Stiles doesn’t miss the way Cora watches her with barely hidden apprehension whenever she’s more than two steps away from her but Stiles doesn’t blame her.

“Alright,” Derek says finally and the chatter dies. Even Lilly quiets down and to Stiles’ surprise, settles on his lap, cuddling close and turning her gaze to Derek with adorable seriousness.

“A lot has happened in the last few days that we need to address,” he says and it sounds weirdly formal. His whole posture is tense and Stiles’ heart aches when he realizes Derek still struggles with the weight of being an Alpha and with all responsibilities that come with it.

“First of all, I would like to welcome my sister Cora to the pack with her daughter Ce—Lilly,” he corrects himself. “Cora? Do you want to tell us what happened?” he asks quietly and she nods, steeling herself.

“Thank you and I know I owe everyone an explanation. When the fire happened I wasn’t in the house. I sneaked out to go out and then—When I made it back home, there was nothing but ruins. I thought everyone was dead and I was scared that the hunters were after me, too, so I just I ran. South, to Mexico. I found a pack that took me in. I fell in love with the Alpha of our pack and soon we had Lilly. At first everything was fine but… He changed. He was always angry and started to take it out on everyone around him.”

She pauses, heavy silence settling in the room. Bile rises in Stiles’ throat. He fucking knew it. The bruise on Lilly’s face is long gone but Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever get the picture out of his head. And the way she was terrified of Derek, who is an Alpha…

“I should have run sooner,” she continues quietly, bringing Stiles from out of his thoughts. “But I had nowhere to go. At least that’s what I thought until I overheard someone mention the Hale pack in California. It wasn’t easy, getting here, and I was so close when the Alpha pack took me. I heard them coming, hid Lilly and led them away from her. I had no idea if she was dead or alive, I was completely losing my mind in there.”

Derek takes her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. Lilly clearly senses the uneasy mood because she clambers from Stiles’ lap and wraps herself around Cora’s neck.

“The Alpha pack is gone,” Derek continues finally. “Kali is the only survivor and she is still on the run. We need to be ready if she gets any ideas about coming back. The same applies to your old Alpha, Cora. We need to be careful and stick together. We’re a small pack but we protect our own,” he says with fierce determination and Stiles’ face turns red when Derek laces their fingers together, giving him a meaningful look.

He ignores Erica who give a little excited clap, as well as Isaac’s muttered _I told you_, just squeezes Derek’s hand back and holds on.

As much as he wants to stay, he has to leave for school soon afterwards. The world hasn’t ended and Finstock is will be waiting for him with the stupid economics test.

“So this my life now, huh?” Stiles says as Derek walks him to the car. “We’re a human-werewolf pack taking care of a little kid. That’s not exactly normal, is it?”

“Yeah, well,” Derek shrugs. “Who needs normal, anyway?”

Stiles scoffs and shakes his head. “I still can’t believe I’m technically an uncle, too.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Derek asks, sounding a little insecure.

“No. None at all,” he smiles and leans in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done. I know, it's sort of an open ending, I'm keeping my doors open if I ever want to continue with this (not likely in the near future). And look, I met my goal of 20k!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading, commenting and leaving kudos. You are the only reason this story is finished! It wasn't an easy one for me to write and I'm not terribly happy with it but it's done. I'm more than ready to move on!:)
> 
> Again, thank you and see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at https://paxterhobber.tumblr.com/ if you're looking for good angst, hurt/comfort fics. I've got some recommendations for you there!


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